


Distractions

by Felixbug



Series: Breaking the Silence [6]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: ...and Justice's assorted fantasies, M/M, Masturbation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-25
Updated: 2015-04-25
Packaged: 2018-03-25 18:13:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,542
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3820066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Felixbug/pseuds/Felixbug
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>As Anders released his hold on his body, Justice pushed forward and claimed it. He felt himself expand and twist to fill the skin, nerves awakening as he rushed through them, his blue glare erupting from the cracks that raced down his arms and branched across the backs of his hands as he was rocked forward by the power of the change, gripping the edge of the desk. The sudden rush of feeling was overwhelming – his heartbeat seemed to shake his entire body until he adapted to the rhythm of his pulse, every breath burned his lungs, and the sudden, urgent flare of need made him snarl and pant as he dropped one hand to roughly loosen his trousers and shove them down around his hips.</i> </p><p>Written for an anonymous prompt on Tumblr about Justice getting distracted while he and Anders work on their manifesto. Fits into <i>Breaking the Silence</i> continuity because I loved the idea too much not to fit it in, but it was written to work on its own so reading the series isn't necessary at all!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Distractions

**Author's Note:**

> Original prompt: Do you think Anders and Justice ever have that problem? Like, Anders is writing the manifesto, but Justice is horny so Anders keeps accidentally writing down smut like dang it Justice do you want to take over and get off so we can work on this
> 
> Some of Justice's fantasies contain depictions of consensual kink.
> 
> See Also: [Art by shameartsideblog](http://felixbug.tumblr.com/post/118613594324/shameartsideblog-read-felixbugs-fic-distractions) and [Art by -lalaloulou- ](http://felixbug.tumblr.com/post/117511663559/lalaloulou-ahhhhhh-so-many-things-i-want-to-do) (both nsfw)

Anders laid down his quill and stretched his arms above his head, arching his back with a groan. Justice stirred at the movement, enjoying the gentle tug of tension down their back and across their shoulders. It was more comfortable writing at the desk in Hawke’s bedroom than the cramped corner in Anders’ clinic, but sitting still for too long always made Anders twitchy. They’d been working for a couple of hours, Anders writing down arguments as their thoughts twisted and flowed back and forth between them. Justice was never sure whose words were whose at times like this, they slipped through Anders’ fingers and into the ink as it looped across the pages, an organic process where neither of them was completely in control. Before Hawke, it had been the only time they could truly cooperate.

Anders caught the thought – perhaps not as words, but the tug of Justice’s mind drew him to the same path. He smirked and shook his head.

“We don’t _cooperate_ when we’re with Garrett,” he said aloud as he took up the quill again. “It’s not like a threesome, don’t make it weird.”

Justice mulled over the word choice as Anders began to write again – _magic is a gift from the Maker, not.._. It wasn’t the first time it had been mentioned in reference to his involvement, from their first night, the joke Hawke made about an _unwilling participant_ that wasn’t a joke, not really, not when he pulled away from Anders’ urgent hands beneath his clothing with a frustrated groan and a _no, really, is he? Because forcing myself on a spirit of Justice sounds like a spectacularly bad idea even by my standards._ Sometimes the word came from Isabela with a laugh and a wink, once from Varric – _I’m sorry Hawke but you have to admit, it’d make a great story_ – and eventually from Hawke again, his first night with Justice fresh in all their minds. That was the one that made Anders’ mind prickle with a brief rush of nervousness – he wanted this, wanted Hawke to accept all of himself, wanted Justice to be loved and desired, but he couldn’t _just_ be part of that, he needed his time with Garrett to be _his_ and, oh Maker, how to ask for that without sounding selfish? Hawke understood though – he could read Anders’ face as easily as their manifesto. Justice couldn’t understand how so much could be written in a line of tension or a twist of the lips, but the mortals seemed to find it easier than words at times.

“I’m starting to see why you thought he’d be a distraction.”

Anders’ voice – and the warm haze of amusement in his mind that accompanied it – got Justice’s attention. He looked down at the page in front of them. _Magic is a gift from the Maker, not a threesome_. Justice’s temper flared briefly – the entire page was ruined, Anders’ intolerably slow hand would take far too long to copy it out again – and a flash of blue lit the room as he swept up the paper, crumpled it, and tossed it into the fireplace.

“Easy, easy…” Anders pushed him back, reassuring feelings trickling between their minds. “Wasn’t my best work anyway.”

Justice forced himself to concentrate, watching through Anders’ eyes as he smoothed a fresh sheet of parchment and dipped his quill in the ink. He watched the glistening, opaque liquid form into heavy drops and fall back into the inkwell, rippling the surface of the liquid like silk. So many little things that mortals took for granted, tiny pockets of beauty they had forgotten how to see.

“The Circle… is abusive… and unjust…” Anders muttered as he wrote.

_If this “Maker” of yours blamed magic for the actions of Magisters in the Black City, he would not continue to…_

Anders’ hand moved smoothly across the page – frustratingly slowly, but elegantly, freckled fingers gripping the quill as the ink flowed. Time was a difficult concept for Justice – thought was instant, shifting between the two of them without barriers. Taking fragments of thought and turning them into words on a page was hard, something was always lost in translation, perhaps destroyed in the moments between inspiration and movement.

Justice let himself push forward gently, testing the boundary between himself and Anders until Anders shifted slightly, allowing a faint glow to form around their fingers so Justice could steady his hand. That sped up his writing, but not by nearly enough. Justice tried to contain his irritation but he felt Anders’ mental flinch. He shifted guiltily and turned his thoughts to other things – perhaps a distraction wouldn’t be such a bad idea.

 _Hawke._ When his mind was not filled with the cause of mages, Hawke was what took its place. Justice indulged himself in the memory of watching Hawke wake after their first night together. Anders was still sleeping at the back of his mind as he watched Hawke opening his eyes, taking in Justice’s glowing form and rolling closer, squeezing one arm tightly around his waist with a contented sigh. Justice had curled in against the comforting bulk, marvelling at the soft brush of Hawke’s hair against his face, the thunder of his heart vibrating through his ribs, the warm, human scent of him. He’d trailed his fingers over a faded scar on Hawke’s hip, ducked his head and brushed his lips against his collarbone, and felt the affectionate motion of Hawke’s splayed hand on his back turn eager and demanding as it skimmed down to grip his ass.

 _I’m sore all over –_ Hawke’s voice purring in his ear, a thick thigh slipping between his legs – _d’you think you could make it worse?_ Justice lost himself in the memory of the moment – Hawke’s hands, his mouth, the way he groaned as Justice…

“Justice?”

He looked down at the page, feeling Anders’ amusement but not sharing it. The handwriting shifted abruptly midway through a sentence, Anders’ neat script replaced by a jagged scrawl.

“Mages cannot be blamed for the actions of Garrett’s mouth, so hot, wet, the way he moves his tongue – I need more, I grip his hair and his eyes water and he groans around me and I bite my lip until it bleeds and push him back, thrust into his throat, claim him, possess him…” Anders shoved the parchment away with a chuckle. “Well, it’s a compelling argument. I’ll take that straight to the Grand Cleric, I’m sure she’ll be convinced.”

The glow around Anders’ fingers faded, and Justice quieted his mind. There was work to be done – and when it was finished, they would go to the clinic. Justice would not allow Hawke to become a distraction from their work, this relationship – relationships, he supposed – could only be permitted if it strengthened them more than it slowed them, if their happiness fuelled their fight.

Anders picked up a fresh sheet of parchment, brushing against Justice’s mind in a way that he could only think of as a playful nudge. This was better – a good day. Often disagreements about the manifesto led to jagged spikes of hostility between them – certainly he had not always been so forgiving in the past when Anders’ mind had wandered. In this, at least, Hawke had changed things for the better. They both knew hurting each other would hurt Hawke, and neither of them could bear that.

“Last attempt,” Anders said, dipping the quill again. The silken opacity of the liquid reminded Justice of lyrium, black instead of silvery blue and silent where lyrium would sing to him, but the similarity was enough to fascinate him with the way it moved. “Oh Maker now you’re thinking about lyrium – I’m serious, I’m not going to keep wasting parchment. If you spoil this one, I’m going to take a break.”

And he tried – he hoped Anders could feel how hard he tried – but the memories and the thought of lyrium bled together and he was lost. The things he could do if Hawke agreed – if Hawke could understand the way the Fade-tinged metal sang to him, the way it inflamed his blood and tangled in his essence, drawing him towards it. The way it tasted when Anders swallowed the potions, Justice surging close to the surface to capture the flavour, the beautiful, maddening song coiling between his eyes and wrapping around his tongue as the cold, bitter flavour hit, lightning and burned metal and something indescribable beneath it. He thought of Hawke in chains, processed lyrium streaking his skin and pooling in his mouth. He dripped with it, writhed in it, and Justice closed his hand around his throat as the song plucked at his nerves and twisted around his spine.

“Do you have any idea how much lyrium potions cost?”

Justice looked at the parchment, but it was clean. Anders set the quill down beside it and pushed his chair back from the desk. An image formed in Justice’s mind, Hawke’s hands tied above his head, thin trickles of lyrium making their way down his chest and smeared across his lips. Justice appeared beside him as the image came into clearer focus, twisting a single bottle of lyrium potion in his hands. It took him a moment to realise the image wasn’t from his mind but from Anders’ – a suggestion.

“That, you might be able to manage,” he murmured. “No chains, no month’s supply of lyrium potions – but ask him nicely and he’ll probably say yes to something a bit smaller.”

Justice took the image as Anders released it, making it his own. He imagined how it would feel to trail his fingertips through the lyrium on Hawke’s chest, dipping lower to wrap them around his cock, how the deep hum of the lyrium would make Hawke moan and thrust into his hand.

“Justice, uh…” Anders drummed his fingers on the desk, the heavy weight of his awkwardness burrowing into Justice’s chest. “I’m going to let you take over. Let you… deal with this.”

 _Deal with…_ Justice despised the mortal habit of reliance on innuendo and suggestion to talk about sex, but he had adapted and caught Anders’ meaning quickly. He would be distracted until he was satisfied. Anders shifted in his seat, and Justice was buried deep enough that sensations were dulled but he felt Anders’ perception of his body through his mind. He became aware of the tightness of his underclothes, the building heat and tension. Anders had always taken care of such needs before – but he supposed his relationship with Hawke had changed his relationship with Anders and their body. He could feel Anders’ attempt to respect his needs, but there was a flash of something else too – beneath Anders’ veneer of slight discomfort there was a curiosity, an eagerness. Justice tried to catch the fleeting thought, pin it down and examine the cause, and Anders snatched it away and it dissolved as quickly as it had arrived.

“This doesn’t have to be weird,” Anders said, and Justice sensed it was as much for his own benefit as Justice’s. He sent a wave of reassurance to Anders and, as Anders released his hold on his body, Justice pushed forward and claimed it. He felt himself expand and twist to fill the skin, nerves awakening as he rushed through them, his blue glare erupting from the cracks that raced down his arms and branched across the backs of his hands as he was rocked forward by the power of the change, gripping the edge of the desk. The sudden rush of feeling was overwhelming – his heartbeat seemed to shake his entire body until he adapted to the rhythm of his pulse, every breath burned his lungs, and the sudden, urgent flare of need made him snarl and pant as he dropped one hand to roughly loosen his trousers and shove them down around his hips.

 He could feel Anders hovering in his mind – and without Hawke present, it somehow felt more intimate, more complicated to experience this together. But there was no way around it and he had permission, and his cock was achingly hard against his palm as he allowed himself the first slow, firm stroke.

Justice drew his lower lip between his teeth with a low, shaky moan. His fingers slid over the damp head of his cock sending a jolt of pleasure through every nerve. His thighs were shaking and his abs clenching – even now, every touch was almost painfully intense. He didn’t think he’d ever get used to this, the firm pressure of his hand gliding over his length, the pulsing wave of heat spreading over his skin. It was both too much and not enough, he was torn between the urge for more, faster, _now_ and the desperate need for this to last, for pleasure to build and build and never peak.

He quickened his strokes, letting his thighs fall loosely open and his shoulders arch over the back of the chair. His body was splayed out loosely, chest heaving and his fist a blur around his cock as he growled and gasped. His eyes fluttered shut as he let his thoughts return to Hawke – kissing him with lyrium on his tongue and a hand around his throat, then bending him over the desk, pinned with his face pressed against the pages of the manifesto, ink-smeared and whimpering as Justice pounded into him.

Justice let his free hand fall to his side, gripping his thigh as he imagined Hawke reaching back to grab at him, fingers digging in in time with his thrusts. Slamming into the eager body beneath him, parchment sent fluttering to the ground as Hawke writhed against the desk to push back against him. He squeezed his cock, imagining the tight clench of Hawke’s ass as he dragged his orgasm from him – imagined Hawke’s rough groan as he came across the desk, fingers digging into Justice’s leg as he pulled him deeper, harder, faster.

“Garrett…” he groaned, hips jerking as he thrust into his hand, so close – painfully close – a shudder in every breath and urgent pleasure building towards its peak. He thought of Hawke on his knees, running his broad hands up Justice’s legs with his face upturned, begging him to come, a flash of pink tongue running over his lips and _yes,_ that was what he needed, a last jerky stroke and he was _there,_ a harsh grunt turning to a shaky cry, spots dancing in his vision and as he screwed his eyes closed tighter and the image filled his mind, he came in thick, glowing spurts over a face that smiled up at him, capturing his taste with an eager, open mouth.

But it wasn’t Hawke’s face, not anymore – warm amber eyes peeked up at him through dark lashes, and a long, freckled hand reached up to push blond hair out of his face. The vision of Anders smirked wickedly, holding Justice’s gaze for just a moment before he could get control of his thoughts and erase the image, emptying his mind before the all too real Anders could look too closely.

Justice opened his eyes, breathing heavily as he slumped in his chair, his thoughts racing. _I’m in trouble. I’m in so much trouble._


End file.
